Identity
by FearandLoathingXIX
Summary: Penelo goes to Larsa's palace six years after their last meeting to ask for a favor, she and Vaan need to escape Arcadia. Problem: Larsa doesn't recognise her. But somehow she gets roped into hanging around far longer than she ever anticipated.
1. WHAT did you just call me!

Hello y'all. _'waves'_

It may've seemed that I'd disappeard for a while, as I haven't updated or published anything in TIME, but I assure you: I still exist. I am just on my summer hols and also playing through final fantasy 8 & 9, which takes up a lot of time.

But here I am, with nothing that I actually promised to write. I know some of you may be hopers for the sequel to 'Far too Long for Friends' but I am having some difficulty with it, and forced writing is unhappy writing that cries at night and makes my pillow soggy.

As for this: I swear to gods it will be Larsa/Penelo when the time come, I still love them and Penelo _belongs _to Larsa, but I have decided to address the Vaan issue in a more involved way.

This story has a fair amount of inspiration and some vague themes drawn from the film 'Howls Moving Castle' by Studio Ghibi - makers of 'Spirited Away' (If you haven't seen it then you should leave your computer RIGHT NOW and go locate the nearest copy of it).

Although what I mean by 'themes/concepts' is that it's a great movie as opposed to I am writing the movie's plot for this pairing. This plot is all mine. But go see the movie, it's really good.

Anyhoos. On with the fic.

* * *

The reason Penelo was able to stroll so freely into the Arcades Palace of Emperor Larsa Solidor one tepid morning, some six years after the coronation of Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca; was not due to her old friendship with 'The Lord of the House', but because it was a hiring day and the guards took her to be another hopeful jobseeker passing through in search of work. Thankful for the serendipity, Penelo clicked her knuckles in agitation and once past the doors waited until the guards were not watching to slip through a corridor veering _away_ from the marked route towards the servants' quarters - where the staff interviews were being held, as she definitely wasn't here to work. Then in another bout of good fortune the guards and attendants became minimal once she was past the first layer of hallways and into the more residential areas of the palace, which made it unlikely for her to be noticed or 'directed' to her proper place. 

The layout of the Palace was fairly simple, so Penelo managed to keep her bearings and reach what appeared to be the personal quarters of the Emperor without getting lost. She was in fact hoping to request a personal favor from Larsa, for old times sake if nothing else, which was to exert some influence over his country's border control and allow her Vaan escape Arcades without any papers. As after a somewhat notorious stint of robberies the pirating duo had unwittingly invited the pursuit of a ruthless sect of bounty hunters, with connections and scouts all across the country. Basically they were in trouble - enough of it to scare Vaan… and that took _a lot._

The problem with this plan was that Penelo hadn't actually seen Larsa in about six years, and her last letter from him was probably four at most. It wasn't that they hadn't _tried_ to stay in contact; just that Larsa was busy and became more so, while she gained notoriety and a prize on her head - meaning that eventually even signing her own name on letters was a risk she and Vaan couldn't afford.

It gradually came to be that whenever Penelo _did_ want to send a letter she had to pass it onto a stranger and ask them to mail it from their next destination, lest the hunters discover their location from postal scouts. However this meant that a fair number of correspondences were lost, crumpled and forgotten in the packs of various travelers, which did not strengthen her relationship with Larsa to say the least. Especially when the young Emperor thought he was being discarded for a more adventurous lifestyle, an assumption drawn from the petering flow of letters and the hazy details of her activites and/or whereabouts.

Larsa then also grew to resent the fleeting hints at a more-than-platonic-relationship developing between Penelo and Vaan, and tritely decided that _Vaan_ must be the cause of her distraction and apparent disterest with him. He _was_ still only a child after all, and a jealousy complex was easily understandable considering his melodramatic family life followed by a messy chain of family-deaths, and along with Penelo being what could've been called his first crush at this time - it all worked together to blacken Larsa's remaining sentiments on the mythical state of love without mercy as he aged, replaced by a cruel skepticism that became somewhat infamous in his social circles.

'_Love'_ Larsa Ferrinas Solidor told himself once - around the age of fifteen – and locked up in his study making paper throwing-stars from Penelo's last letter, which featured such nauseating uses of the word 'we' (such as _we thought it… _and _we send our love) _that he couldn't even bear to finish it.

_'Love…is for fools. Fools and dreamers._' He concluded bitterly before flinging the last bit of bastardized parchment into a bin placed purposely across the room, it hit the target with perfect aim, and then the 'Lord Larsa' proceeded to destroy every address Penelo ever gave him.

Yet only four years on, Penelo innocently wondered whatever happened to her friendship with Larsa as she paced his hallways: when he stopped replying to her letters it was as if he suddenly didn't want to know her anymore. Perhaps she may not have written as much as she meant to, but it _was_ a little irrational of him to expect something from her that often when he knew her 'situation'. So she told herself that if he didn't want to stay in contact then that was _fine_, she wasn't exactly lonely anyway, not with Vaan around - he was all she needed.

Penelo followed a corner round to spot a lone attendant positioned in front of an oaken door a little way down the corridor, bearing a little embossed plaque, he was obviously guarding the commoners (like herself) from the voices she faintly detected through the paneled walls.

"Can I help you?" The thickly accented voice of said assistant inquired with suspicion, and broke Penelo from her chain of thoughts, which were largely centered on Vaan and how much she _needed_ Larsa to help her - or else he'd stay in hiding until things 'cooled off' with the hunters. But how long that would take wasn't something she could bear thinking about, as the last time they'd been separated was more than seven years ago (when she was used as bait by the bounty hunter Ba'Gamnan) and _any _time away from Vaan was ill spent and riddled with anxiety. The fact was that Penelo simply didn't know what to _do _without him anymore.

"_I said_, can I help you?" The attendant reiterated irately just as Penelo stopped by the door and twisted around to face him with an expression of naivety, as if his existence had just been brought to her attention.

"Oh…no, sorry." She stammered timidly while telling herself again and again that it wasn't normal for her to be this lost without _him_ around. "I was just looking for…"

"A job?" He cut in snidely, a truly contemptuous sneer on his face, "You are in _completely _the wrong place. The interviews are…" Now when it meant she was let into the palace freely Penelo didn't mind being taken for a servant, but when she was being looked down on by a _nobody: _it was a problem.

"I am **not** a servant here!" she spat with a boldness that she startled herself with, as since Vaan took off she'd been drifting around like a ghost, but it would seem that she _did _have some life left in her after all. However the rattle of a lock on the door interrupted this surprise outburst before it had time to blossom; as the panel opened and a man aged about twenty or so appeared from the room she'd heard the voices from. He was in fact no more than a young boy who'd changed a bit since Penelo had last seen him - some six years ago at Ashe's coronation. But to Penelo the oddest thing about Larsa Solidor, past his sharp eyes and cleanly shaven jaw, was the unimpressed _scorn_ he wore while casting his gaze briefly over the two Humes at his study door.

"I thought I asked for quiet." He announced coolly with an accusing glare at the guard, before bringing his gaze listlessly over Penelo. But as he peered at her it was as if there were a lens of frosted glass over each of Larsas' eyes, and it was as if he were trying to look at her through a thick mist, although something did seem to click for the breifest of moments when she smiled at him. However it soon faded into nothing and all Emperor Solidor 'saw' of the woman stood behind his attendant was an untamed head of mousy brown hair (as in order to lay low Penelo had dyed it,) and a rather distasteful bruise fading over her left eye – 'won' a few nights ago after being surrounded with Vaan outside a bar by some amateur hunters, fortunately with aspirations reaching farther than they could throw a punch. But that was also the turning point for Vaan, as not long afterwards he decided it was 'way too risky' in this city for them to go around together, and said they should separate until things calmed down hunter-wise.

"_And_ for no visitors." Larsa clipped curtly after an awkward pause, which threw Penelo's eyes to the floor - feeling humiliated by the fact that he didn't even _recognize _her.

"Who is this?" He added as she shuddered: had she really changed that much? Was six years _that_ long? She recognized _him_ easily enough, although it wasn't hard: Larsa still looked like himself… just an older, more arrogant form of the thirteen-year-old she once knew.

"She is no one, My Lord." The attendant stated spitefully and quickly dismissed any more of the Emperor's attention on her, "Just a lost citizen here for the interviews being held today. Take no…" he attempted to say, but never managed to finish the sentence for the Emperor's blatant disinterest.

"Then one would hope she can clean better than she takes directions." He commented to no one in particular and closed the door again, while Penelo continued to gawp in shock and choking disappointment. Although the guard didn't give her much of a chance to breathe, let alone _think_… Or panic more precisely: as how in Occuria's name could she ask Larsa to help her when he couldn't even remenber who she was?

"The door is down the way you came, down the stairs and straight ahead." The assistant told Penelo without hesitation as she hung her head and began to bite her lower lip in distress, "It's hard to miss." Wounded, she backed down the corridor in defeat but upon reaching the stairwell took a right instead – having decided that she was _not_ going to be ordered about by a man like that… in fact, make that _men_: Larsa was just as bad as his conceited little lackey.

Penelo wandered aimlessly down the lengths of hallway in somewhat of a depression, trailing a fingertip along the walls absent-mindedly while staring disdainfully at the bruises on her knuckles: fighting your way through two heavily built Seeq, a bangaa and an armed Hume wasn't exactly easy, nor did one emerge unflawed from it. Unless of course your name was _Vaan_, then no matter how many hits you took you'd always look the same: innocently surprised and perhaps a little ruffled if something had happened somewhere at some point in the not-too-distant-past.

'_So I'm not perfect.' _She thought dejectedly while fingering her tinted hair, she hadn't wanted to dye it – neither had Vaan. He'd actually pleaded with her to leave it alone but she was too freaked out after the fight; so picked up a cheap henna stain at a street stall and did it that night over a sink, intending of course to change her appearance from the description out on the streets and throughout the clan network, hopefully buying herself a little time and anonymity.

'_I'm the same…I haven't changed…he has.' _she decided nonchalantly, but once again was unable to actually finish thinking the problem through when an open door along the corridor hailed a nasal whine of disdain as she passed by.

"Well it's about **time!**" The resident cried, and Penelo looked aside to see a stubby man with wiry brown hair and liver spots on his face glaring at her over a desk piled high with parchment and silver serving trays. "I called for someone _hours _ago – it is _freezing _in here, the pot has gone cold and there's nothing left in the grate but ashes!" Despite having absolutely no idea what the man was on about Penelo took a tentative step towards the doorframe, mostly out of curioisty and feeling rather like a rabbit caught in the headlights of whoever-this-was's command. Whereas the Emperor's treasurer, Nathaniel Parckle, stared expectantly at the servant outside his office for a moment then snapped again when she didn't make any further movements towards his means.

"Are you _deaf_? **Get in here!"** he spat and Penelo obeyed out of instinct, shuffling into the chaotic room and glancing around at the wall-to-wall bookcases, only broken by a fireplace in which the embers were almost gone.

"You will simply have to rebuild the whole thing from scratch now." Stated the clerk and pointed towards the ashen logs, "Which should teach you to be slack." Noticing the pile of timber _right_ next to the hearth Penelo couldn't help but cast him a bemused look. "And try to do it **before** I perish in this ice cavern." Nathaniel added when the air-headed girl still stared at him as if he was speaking in another language.

"Couldn't you have put the logs on yourself?" She asked innocently, but he merely snorted, gestured to the logs again and returned to his work. Unwilling to actually build a fire but also unable to ignore the instructions of this rather intimidating man, Penelo decided to throw a couple of the logs into the grate and cast a quick fira spell on them to remedy the problem. Nathaniel looked up briefly as she chanted the words of the enchantment, intrigued as to what she was actually _doing_, but when the branches crackled and spat into life they soon answered for her actions.

Naturally he would never admit it but Nathaniel was a little surprised by the girl's mastering of black magic, such expertise was not a common occurrence at her low level of servitude. But he merely remarked "That will do." smarmily and caused Penelo to consider another spell or two in his direction…namely _silence _and _death. _

"Now go fetch me another tea tray, this pot is stone cold and I am not a peasant." The treasurer ordered Penelo without even glancing up from his work or breaking his tally of calcuations. "And if you are late I will have you discharged- what is your name?" Penelo hurriedly took the opportunity to mumble obeidance and disappear from the office in pretence of acting on Nathaniel's words, but without disclosing any compromising details such as her name, merely a promise to return 'as soon as possible, sir'.

However, the questioning of that highly-strung imperial reminded Penelo, as she continued her haphazard exploration of the palace, that she really ought invent a false name…and probably a whole new identity while she was at it. Accidentally blurting her real name would ruin just about everything, as it would take approximately an hour for word of a _Penelo _in any part of Arcades to reach the ears of clan Cerberus, and in a coffin was not the next place she wanted to meet up with Vaan.

'_Screw this up, Penelo, and everything goes to pot.' _She warned herself and began to descend a tightly wound spiral staircase towards what might be the servants quarters, _well_, it had as good a chance of being down there as any of the rooms in Larsa's residence, _'you can do this. Vaan said you'd be fine. You will be fine. You will be…'_

"You will be fine." Vaan remarked casually, as if she was a weather report - Ttoday: Penelo will be fine, tomorrow expect showers and heavy thunderstorms. It is advised to stay indoors and hide under the covers until she passes.'

"But, Vaan," She pleaded helplessly while watching him dash around the room stuffing a few of his things into a bag, "you can't…don't…please…" He paused and glanced at her over his shoulder; he wouldn't dare tell her but she looked strange with brown hair…well, to him at least. Nevertheless he dropped the bag and walked slowly over to her, sat on the end of the bed scrunching the grimy covers in both fists.

"Just until the heat passes," he told her, "it won't be long, Penelo, I promise." Vaan reached for her hands but she wouldn't release her iron grip on the bed sheets, so he settled them on her shoulders instead and then crouched down to look her in the eyes.

"You will be fine, Penelo." He said, slowly going over each word as if they could cast a spell on her. She tried not to shake, but it was _scary_, Vaan was her safety net. She wasn't sure if she could just carry on without him, feeling more inclined to falling and breaking her neck upon attempting the high wire alone. Nevertheless she attempted to smile at him and he leaned in to tentatively peck her on the lips, a tried-and-very-well-tested comfort. Then she really did smile, as after all the time they'd been 'together' Vaan was _still_ nervous about kissing her.

"Kay?" he murmured quietly, but just as she was going to let go of the bed for him he backed away to resume packing.

"I guess…" She sighed with a shudder at the scrape of the bedroom window opening, and with a self-assured grin Vaan crawled out the hatch, shouting a faint '_love you_!' up at the window Romeo-and-Juliet style once he'd reached the street below, before swiftly vanishing into the night.

Tucking her legs up underneath her and picking at her fingernails Penelo sighed again and whispered _'love you too,'_ before getting up to put out the light, and then cocooning herself in the covers, she cried a little before falling asleep; wondering where Vaan was going to stay…and what _she _was going to do until he came back.

* * *

Whoa, that took me a lot longer to do than I expected. (pretends it is because her work is improving and takes more time to get right) 

Worst thing about finishing a chapter: you have to go back to the bare basics of the next one. I.e getting the basic words out so you can go and re-process them later, like a meat grinder...

You know, there is a special layer of hell reserved for those who read fic and do not leave a review. A theme park. But all the rides have giant queues and the rollercoasters do horrible, unholy, torturous things to you, which aren't even fun. And the food is...well, it's theme park food, need I say more?

On the other hand, the tickets are free if you drown a kitten at the entrance ;P (God I'm crazy today.)


	2. That's a BIG snake

I totally promise the next one is ALL about Larsa! Okay? Then after that I might even be able to get them into a room together and everything!

Bit of language in this one, but I like my coliqual speaking XD

* * *

Penelo hadn't actually _intended_ to go to the kitchens as the bossy treasurer had instructed her to, but either by godly guidance or the simple twists of fate she ended up outside one one anyway. The door to it swung madly open and closed every split second with the barging of the kitchen staff, and each time it did Penelo would catch a snatch of conversation, or occasionally the scent of some dish destined for the Emperor's table: there appeared to be some sort of celebratory feast due later in the evening. Although she tried to keep to the side Penelo managed to get under people's feet regardless, and caused a bawdy woman balancing half a suckling pig on her shoulder to yell at her for being in the way, which nearly sent her running for the hills, but the crass matron had other plans for the 'new employee' appearing under her command; and called the fleeing brunette back before she had time to escape. 

"You ther! Yeh! _You! _Go an' tell **Marcus Stumps** we need a Viper for the party," She barked while kicking a foot back to knock the door open in Penelo's direction, which incidentally threw a silver tea tray out of a passing busboy's hands in the process, drenching him in hot tea, "An make that a _whole, fresh _one, you tell him. They're all paticular about wyne up ther." Now although Penelo only properly understood the words 'Viper' and 'Marcus Stumps' from the woman's statement due to the racket the kitchen was producing in general, she decided that they were good enough to run with lest she get yelled at again. So she dashed into the kitchen and tried to ignore the sharp elbows of busy waiters, apparently ignorant of her existence, and luckily picked up on someone bellowing the word 'Stumpy!' across the room, so chose to follow it in hopes of finding the man the call was directed at (Stumps-Stumpy was not really much of a mental stretch.) This plan worked, and dully led Penelo to a man reacting to the holler with a chain of angry curses, the gist of which seemed to be 'f-ck off I'm busy'.

After swallowing a lump in her throat she worked up the nerve to tug on the man's shirt, then flinched when he span around snarling "What?!" as if she'd personally offended him. Then the mean thirty-five year-old stared straight into the eyes of the woman clinging onto him with a leathery, suntanned face and what looked like the butt of a cigarette in his mouth.

"Uh…Marcus?" Penelo asked him above what sounded like a Chocobo dying, and he scrutinized her before deciding like the woman before him, that she must be the new blood promised by the higher-ups.

"Thas me." He stated while pushing her hands off his sleeve and continued to work: no way was he going to let a newbie slow _him_ down, "Wats yer problem?" he muttered while relentlessly slamming a large knife down onto the counter to slice a cured ham into wafer-thin strips.

"We need a viper," Penelo echoed the woman's words, but shuddered when Marcus swore and pounded a fist against the counter, luckily it was the knifeless one.

"**She **was supposed to f-ckin get it!" He bellowed, "I ask you, do I _look_ like I got a f-ckin viper on my _f-ckin_ person?" Penelo hesitated to answer the question from a mixture of fear and surprise, but was luckily answered for by another man with a grimy bandana tied around his head, covering one eye, which was rather worrying considering he wielded a large cleaver. Surely people weren't allowed to use/wave those things about with half a blindfold on?

"Unles it's what yur mother shoved up y'ass and made you such a tentpole." Bandana-man taunted, and despite Marcus/Stumpy looking like he might turn **very **murderous any second Penelo couldn't help a childish grin. She _was_ rather notorious for being a 'humor whore' (Vaan's words) – which meant she laughed at almost _anything _within reason.

A fierce argument between Marcus and 'bandana-man' broke out, from which Penelo managed to gather that the kitchens were short a viper to make some specialist form of serpentwyne for the Emperor's guests (fondly reffered to as 'the frauds'), and all of a sudden she found a voice and way to make herself useful, after as she didn't want toget herself thrown out before she could get to Larsa.

"From the Tchita uplands?" she inquired, then repeated it when Marcus and Bandana-man only gave her a confused look, probably having forgotten her existence - as seemed to be a trend in Arcades, "A viper from the Tchita Uplands? You need one, right?" Eventually they both seemed to understand her and for once agreed on something: that whatever she'd said was at the very height of Arcadian humor, but for once Penelo _didn't_ get the joke.

"Wher does a pipsqueak lik you get a viper?" the man with the bandana hooted disbelievingly, "But yeh, a damned Tchita one." Shrugging off their scornful laughter, Penelo crossed her arms and stared coolly back at him. After all, it was only _his _loss if he didn't want her help; she wasn't exactly risking her job by offering it, not having had one in the first place.

"I can get one for you. Fresh." She stated only to endure another odorous wave of laughter. Assumptions about her today all seemed to be rather far from the truth so she, being the good person that she was, sought to redeem them.

"_Look_, you either need one of those things or you don't." she said flatly, "All I'm saying is I can have one dead in this kitchen in an hour." The deadly serious expression on her face led one man to eventually murmured aside to the other: reckoning it was worth a shot because 'worst case she gets her pretty little head ripped off - otherwise they get a viper and keep their jobs.' So without much further ado Penelo was wished 'f-ckin good luck' and handed the slightly bloodied cleaver that had recently been in the man with the bandana's possession. Magik would _obviously_ be useless taking down anything that was meant to be eaten, as a charred corpse is no good to anyone - nor one infected with poison or shot to bits with a rifle.

"I'm givin yu half an' hour." the now disarmed man told her, and Penelo suppressed the desire to argue for the whole hour she'd given as an estimate - she really had no idea how long it would take to kill one of those things alone, the last time she fought without a companion being…well, _never_.

Yet she merely said "Fine." and wrapped a rag around the blade of the cleaver before sticking it into the waistband of her trousers, "see'ya round." She chirped before strolling between the skeptical men watching her exit; both certain that this was the last time they would ever see her alive. Nevertheless, she intuitively followed a draft of fresh air and soon ended up at a servant's door, which led right onto the street and didn't even have any guards stationed by it, just a couple of watchmen who were so engrossed in a game of checkers that neither noticed her leaving.

Although the Tchita uplands _were_ outside the city, they were still tighter than a Bangaa's fist on the matter of security around the city; checkpoints at all major boundaries took a name and destination for almost everyone passing through - and unfortunately for Penelo every one of them had _her_ name, likely destinations and description on a list distributed by clan Cerberus (the workers were always keen to make a bit of extra gil). Although this situation was not much of a problem considering she could probably brag her way through one and be gone as fast as you could say 'the Moogling', even so she was set on remaining in the city, _Vaan _was still there: upping sticks on Arcades (and Larsa's help) would only make the distance between them greater. So Penelo kept to the Uplands with all the intentions of finding a viper to bring back to Larsa's kitchen, where maybe she could get some time alone with him and snap a bit of remembrance back into the boy.

Thanks to her _legendary_ luck, it wasn't long before Penelo accidentally stomped a foot into a viper nest and pissed off the mother snake; a long beast spitting very deadly venom for those without an antidote (luckily she'd swallowed one beforehand) and one instinct – kill or be killed. Unfortunately for said viper, Penelo was up on the situation with about seven years of heavy combat under her belt and a big knife – she (and this was meant quite _literally_ after one occasion where Vaan spent all their budget on new equipment) ate these things for breakfast.

However, a 5"2' girl trying to drag 7½ ft of angry, but dead, viper into Arcades attracts a 'little' attention, so unsurprisingly an uptight Hume with more time on his hands than is good for _anyone_ stopped Penelo at the boundary for a 'spot-check'.

"Business in Arcades?" He demanded primly and Penelo rolled her eyes: she_ hated_ border control with a vengeance.

"I'm taking my kid here to the doctors." She retorted , swearing she could hear Vaan snorting in the distance (as he always did- which inevitably _ruined _the act.) But of course Vaan wasn't there and the man just _glared_ at her until she amended the statement. "I work at the Palace. This is for Lar-His Highness's table." She was forced to answer, and the neurotic worker finally took it down in a thick records book.

"Name?" was the next demand, and Penelo managed _not _to say her own name but stammered "Ahh…" for a few seconds as she tried to think of anything that wasn't 'Vanelo.'

"Ana." She eventually blurted, and then when prompted to provide a surname muttered something commonplace and quickly hurried through the checkpoint, before the man could raise any objections or try to stop her.

Now the one _useful_ thing about Larsa's Palace was that it was sure-as-hell easy to spot, so Penelo had no trouble in finding the door she left by, and proudly flung the skull of her bounty onto a counter in front of half the kitchen staff, most of which thought she was totally insane. However Marcus and the woman who'd called for the creature both saw Penelo boasting her kill and rushed forwards to carry the thing off for prepping. To her great disappointment neither said so much as 'thank you', which bothered her until she reminded herself that she didn't _actually _work here and was leaving just as soon as she found Larsa, so it was hardly relevant if her fake employers were nice to her or not.

It became obvious to Penelo later in the day that Larsa was _not_ going to be available for a private chat anytime in the coming evening, as judging by the scale of the preparations what looked like a meal to feed half of Arcades was in the works; and it got so chaotically out of hand that she decided to slip the net and wander off in search of a more peaceful spot to lurk in (with less bossy superiors ordering her about). But although freed from the problem of forced labor, she knew there was no way that she'd be able to catch the Emperor alone once guests started to arrive, so on a whim set off towards his personal quarters once more in a last attempt at catching him alone before it was too late.

After finding the study Larsa had formerly been in empty and unattended, a sure sign that the Emperor was not in the vicinity, Penelo took to uncoordinated wandering again, only thinking about her direction when she nearly passed by the Treasurer's door once more - no doubt Nathaniel was thirsty for _more _than tea by now. But on this occasion her haphazard style of exploration didn't even make it to Larsa's door; as two guards barricaded a corridor not far from the old study, a sure sign that the Lord was 'in'… but they were big, threatening _heavily armed_ guards, who seemed to resent Penelo for even existing near them.

"The Emperor is not seeing anyone." One grunted, but for the life of her she couldn't tell _which_; the helmets they wore made such an odd echoing sound that for all she knew it was the light fittings speaking.

"Oh…well," She stuttered while screaming '_think-fast, think-fast, think-__**faster!**__'_ to herself and wondering what Vaan would do – although, to be honest it would probably involve a mace and the guards' faces rather than of any form of deception: acting was not Vaan's strongest point…but murder wasn't exactly ideal way of blending into Arcadian life, not for the commoners at least.

"I work here." She found herself saying, "I'm supposed to…"

"The Emperor is not seeing _anyone,_" whichever guard could speak repeated gruffly, "which includes servants So _beat_ _it_." Scowling and resisting the urge to 'beat' his stupid helmet in, Penelo muttered curses and was forced to retreat at the mean glare of the bodyguard's swords.

"Maybe tomorrow…" She murmured dejectedly on the way out, gradually retracing her steps towards the kitchens, as she didn't really have anything else _to _do. So she hung around doing some easy chores for a while - just to be near people and stop herself missing Vaan, but eventually had to leave in search of an inn to stay in for the night, "tomorrow I'll find him."

* * *

Hope people are enjoying this, it's the most complicated thing I've every undertaken (i.e. has a real plot) so I hope it works out XD


	3. It's not THAT neurotic

Man, my last chapter was short. Well, I promise I'll try harder to keep updates snappy and not slice-and-dice subsequent chapters, kk:D

I mess with Larsa in this. A whole lot. Because I promised Larsa and I'll goddammed give you him! But it'll be on _my _terms ;P

Why did I screw with him? (note 'with' not 'screw _him'_) Could it be me exercising my power of god as writer, or perhaps I just like to toy with people's minds, or could it be (gasp) plot?

Who knows. Anyway. Enjoy. And I _swear_ next chapter there will be actual words exchanged between our favourite couple ;)

* * *

While Penelo made her last, unsuccessful attempt at reaching him for the day, Larsa sat comfortably inside the study-come-lounge being so heavily protected, rubbing a hand across his forehead with his eyes half-closed. An angry exchange of voices a short way down the corridor seemed agonizingly potent and quickly drove the Emperor's face down into his palms; where he curled up in his chair and prayed that the dispute would just resolve itself, leaving him in peace. 

Without thinking he pulled open the second drawer down on his deck and took out a neatly bound pad, a little larger than a pocketbook but smaller than any official documents. There was a silver cufflink awkwardly marking a page about three quarters of the way through and upon realizing what had become of _that_ half of the set he sighed uneasily, but nevertheless opened it and picked up a pen, then finding the next clean line under the page marked neatly with the current date wrote _'headache, early evening – 5.'_

However, upon feeling footsteps down the hall rattle in his ears like shot recoil, even through the purposely-sound-proofed walls, Emperor Solidor had a second thought and abstained from writing to quickly stand up for a few seconds, which as he expected caused a sudden flood of pain to his forehead. Sinking to his seat again he scratched out the '5' on the journal entry to replace it with a '6.'

This routine, although rather monotonous, was something Larsa had become used to over time and was now a second nature. This was the study where he kept all present and past journals, locked away so that no one but him could, or _would_, read them. Except of course for the Doctor, who'd been the one to suggest keeping one (or _some_) in the first place, so naturally kept track of the Emperor's condition through them.

Although a 'condition' was not really the right word for it (as Larsa would've defiantly told anyone with an ear to listen.) He could easily go for days with naught but a dull ache in his temples in passing moments; _but_ on the other hand he was sometimes quite literally blinded by pain and had no option but to retire to his darkened chambers with a cool cloth. He never complained, though, not anymore. Larsa had grown far too accustomed to his situation to question it – and most of the time he was _fine _anyway…. Just past a certain threshold of pain (an 'eight') he had to be sure never to move things or hold important conversations, as beyond _that_ point he began to get memory lapses.

It wasn't exactly a disabling or life threatening 'condition' as Dr. Fowler insistently called it, always to Larsa's annoyance. It was merely reckoned that the Nethicite-fuelled shock Vayne gave his younger brother aboard the Bahamut 'short-circuited' some small part of the young lord's mind. Be assured it was nothing significant, in fact he barely noticed it until many months after the event, when headaches wouldn't go away and could no longer be completely accounted for by grieving - which undoubtedly played a role in it as well: Twelve is not a good age to have your world smashed to pieces around you, least of all with your own hand in the responsible events.

As it was, it'd been Basch (a.k.a. Judge Gabranth) who'd insisted on a session with one of the country's best medics on Larsa's behalf, and despite a great deal of scepticism and protest from the young Solidor, he eventually compromised on a reluctant hour spent chatting about politics to the surprisingly friendly Doctor Fowler. Who seemed to be more interested in analysing the country's problems rather than its Emperor's…or Larsa thought.

It was much to the boy's annoyance that Dr. Fowler didn't 'clear' him after their first sitting, nor their second or any subsequent meetings after that, but informed 'Gabranth' that he'd need some more time with His Royal Highness to make a full profile. This procrastination gradually fell into a weekly slot that Larsa made a show of resenting – but he _actually_ rather enjoyed the company of his sociable Physician.

Although most of this was before a rather unfortunate realization as to the full extent of the damage caused, which hit the young Emperor upon leaving a conference one day about year after the events aboard the Bahamut; when Larsa realized (through his splitting headache) that he couldn't remember a single thing that had been said throughout the entire meeting. But this was not in an ironic or light-hearted sense, hinting that the speakers were boring or indistinguishable – he could not recall a _single_ _word_.

After bringing it up with Dr. Fowler, Larsa then began to notice more worrying periods of darkness in his memory that were otherwise overlooked: lost things, signed documents and even brief conversations had simply vanished from his recollection. Then not long after beginning his first journal, as suggested by Dr. Fowler, it was gradually realized that the blackouts usually occurred when Larsa had a particularly bad migraine, although, on rare occasions it happened purely out of the blue.

It scared Larsa. It scared him _a_ _lot_. But naturally no one else was informed and it became the strictest of state secrets; it was reckoned that an infirm Emperor wouldn't have the same standing in the eyes of his people or advisory. So Basch became the only other confidante and even he received a sugarcoated version from time to time – as Emperor Solidor did not like to make people worry.

There _were_ times he nearly told Penelo of all people, many years ago in the admittedly short-lived period when they were at their closest and he was just a frightened young boy. There even letters that he'd written and thrown away at the last minute, as somehow he couldn't find the right words to explain _it_ to her…and then when they became distanced he felt like he missed his chance.

As it was they _did _lose contact - it was simply the way things had worked out and Larsa wasn't one to question the hand he was dealt in life. Anyway, he hadn't received actual word from Penelo or her pirating partner (no doubt _lover _by this time, Larsa would guess) in a good few years, nor did he expect to. Perhaps as a lingering respect to the ones who helped him restore peace to Ivalice, or alternately as one for their friendship; Larsa never put a price on her and Vaan's heads despite the robberies they committed within his territory, although, it _was_ equally plausible that he wanted to avoid a confrontation that involved them in his imprisonment for piracy.

But he no longer bore any ill blood against either or them, having grown out of his puppyish attachment to _her_ long ago… although even slightly amorous tales mentioning the pair always left a bitter taste in his mouth, not that he heard such whispers very frequently: he _was_ an Emperor after all.

But even without his and his cabinet's funding, there were others in Arcadia who did offer rewards for the necks of Vaan and Penelo, mostly the victims of their numerous 'liberations' over the years. So although Ashe of Dalmasca also swayed the authorities a few times for her old friends, (which she was used to doing - _especially _with the infamous Balthier seeming to favor her fair city on an almost permanent basis) both outlaws managed to earn a sizeable bounty on their flaxen heads, enough to tempt even the fangs of Clan Cerberus last Larsa had heard.

The Emperor suddenly came out of his thoughts and wondered _why_ in Ivalice he was thinking about Penelo and Vaan anyway…he'd not heard from _or_ about either of them in negligibly long, their names occasionally cropped up in the official audits of the various Clans and hunting halls; but it was a fleeting rarity that barely caught his attention… if at all.

Larsa thought it rather odd, as _she_ in particular seemed to have been flitting around his thoughts all day. _Why that was_ he couldn't work out and with his migraine threatening to thicken he chose not to linger on, instead favoring a darkened room and some peace and quiet (even from himself). However, this solitude was rather rudely interrupted before its time by heavy footsteps belonging to a suit of armour Larsa couldn't mistake the clatter of, as it was the only one the guards would let down this corridor.

"Just come in." he announced drearily upon hearing Basch hover by the door, and as quietly as he could manage in his brother's armour the knight entered, quickly noticing that the curtains were drawn and the lights dimmed. He removed his helmet and glanced at the open pad on Larsa's desk, making out the cover to be red – which was what he'd expected judging by the darkened room and restricted access.

"Should I cancel tonight's…" He began in a low tone, reluctant to let Larsa suffer unnecessarily, but the young Lord swayed his hand and softly shook his head at the guardian; then cradled it in his other palm and shielded what little light there was from his oversensitive eyes.

"Not at all," he murmured while shutting the journal and returning it to its drawer, but paused awhile above one of remaining pads, unable to decide whether to take it or not. He quickly made peace with the decision and promptly set a green book out on the table, the remaining (blue) journal left in the drawer with its film of dust undisturbed. He opened up the green notepad; this one marked with an actual bookmark, and under the date scrawled_ 'Penelo (Vaan)?' _almost illegibly, then sharply snapped it shut again.

It might've seemed neurotic to the average onlooker that Larsa Solidor should keep not one, but _three _different journals at any one time, but it was what Dr. Fowler had suggested when the single record was too chaotic for either of them to make use of, and it was a rather simple system when studied properly.

**Red** was the mechanic and medical journal – headaches, memory patches and the exact details of his day. Larsa was often to be seen scribbling away in the red book during meetings if he was suffering more than usual, and sometimes even during conversation when matters became dire and the situation unavoidable. This record generally only consisted of little notes to jog his memory if needs be, nothing particularly substantial or insightful, merely a reference point if he felt uncertain about any of the day's events.

**Green** was the journal Larsa took with the least seriousness, but had become rather attached to over the years; it was the 'dream journal' – real dreams, day dreams, random thoughts and twisted philosophical questions all went into the green book. Dr. Fowler took great interest, and often amusement, in the things Larsa sometimes came up with in the dead of the night and jotted down out of habit, as the pad always sat next to his bed. Mostly they were uncoordinated ramblings of a sleep-deprived mind or silly little notes like the one he just made about Penelo, which Dr. Fowler would no doubt grill Larsa about later on and unearth a lot of old history the Emperor would've preferred to stay buried. He considered scratching out the comment as Basch made his inconspicuous way to the desk, but that was unfortunately the first and only rule of the journals – nothing is ever removed.

The last journal was the **blue**, which was Larsa's _personal _one – the blue was just for his 'feelings', and was consequently the one he regarded with the most scepticism. Dr. Fowler rarely read the blue, doing so only if Larsa asked him to - as according to the physician it was just for 'him' and to be considered _'ranting on paper if you ever feel the need and my ear does not happen to be present at the time'_. Nevertheless Larsa wrote in this the least, which accounted for the layer of dust it always tended to gather.

"My Lord?" Basch inquired softly and Larsa cocked his head up guilelessly. Then obviously worried that he might overexert himself Basch added, "Are you sure? Entertaining guests tonight…it is always possible to,"

"No." Larsa interrupted in little more than a whisper: no bitterness or spite in his voice, simply fatigue, "I am fine, it is nothing to worry about, Basch." The knight seemed hard-pressed to trust Larsa on this, but he had no one else _to _believe; which left him with no option but to relent.

Larsa stood up all of a sudden to prove his health, but did so a _little_ too fast than was good for him, and it caused the young man to sway uncertainly for a second while Basch lunged an arm out to grab him - it was merely a head rush and _completely unrelated,_ but as always he was treated like a special case.

"Are you?" The knight rushed as he gripped Larsa's arm to steady him, but his charge just sighed in an irritated manner and rolled his eyes.

"Basch, I am **fine**," he said insistently, "please do not fret." The Knight couldn't help but smile faintly – Larsa was constantly cuckolding his guardian for fretting like 'an old grandmother' whenever he showed any signs of malady.

It just frustrated him that the boy always tried to be so strong, presenting the traditional Solidor trait of hiding one's weakness, even if it threatened to tear them apart. Basch was still holding into the Emperor's arm after the debate on his welfare had 'officially ended', so after a cursory glance from the Lord he let go, but not before lightly squeezing it, albeit through his gauntlets.

Larsa _had_ basically lost everyone dear to him in a very short period of time, and in the aftermath it'd somehow fallen to the unwitting Basch to take the place of (or at least _attempt_) the missing roles – father, brothers and entrusted guardians had all dissipated in the blink of an eye… but the Knight was bound by oath to the _true_ Gabranth, his brother: and Basch Von Rosenberg was still a man of his word. So although he wouldn't claim to have been stellar at trying to care for the boy, if you asked him for an honest answer then Basch would be likely to say he didn't think he made a _complete _mockery of Larsa's teenage years.

Larsa sighed and let a faint smile slip at Basch's coddling while he tried to brush him away, at the same time knowing he'd probably be a much lesser man without it. Emperor Solidor wasn't a Hume who 'needed' people at every waking hour, he could manage on his own for the most part…but _everyone _needs a person to fall back on when the going gets tough: be it friend, family, or somewhere in-between the two.

"I'll call for a willowbark tea," Larsa muttered quietly to himself as Basch backed off to a more 'comfortable' distance, "when are the first guests arriving?" Studying an antique clock on the wall the elder of the men realized the thing hadn't worked in years.

"Soon." He answered while picking his helmet up again and making to leave, after all he'd only disturbed the Emperor's exclusion zone to make sure he was still intending to entertain that night, and Larsa would no doubt appreciate spending the remaining time alone to work out as much of the migraine as he could.

"Should I notify the staff on my way out?" He added as an afterthought and Larsa nodded gratefully in reply, always reluctant to deal with the staff in these situations. Basch finally turned away and pushed open the oiled door to leave, but just as he did Larsa's tongue suddenly burnt to ask if anything had been heard of Penelo or Vaan recently – perhaps it would account for their pestering his thoughts all day.

"Basch?" He asked without even thinking and the knight instantly halted his exit, but at that point Larsa realized it was a totally pointless question and the words lay like silt in the bottom of his mouth, "oh…never mind." He murmured while slipping the green book into his pocket, and quietly rested until a footman (with permission from Judge Gabranth) alerted him as to the first guest's arrival an hour or so later.

"Well…" Larsa Solidor whispered under his breath as he slid a small brass key into the lock of his journal drawer and snapped it shut, then testing it'd definitely locked rose from his seat with a little more care than the previous time, "Here goes nothing."

* * *

I said I'd give you Larsa. I just didn't say I'd fried his brains ;) 

Although, in my own defence, how many people have seen that zapping-thing Vayne does at the end of the first form of the final battle? It's quite nasty-looking, so saying that Larsa didn't come out of it unscathed is pretty plausible.

And just as a mention, the next chapter takes place the following day. It's up to you to imagine how Larsa's evening goes ;P


	4. I am FINE!

Heh, it's been a while, right?

But I have about THIS much work to do and this 'an that and etc...

I'm here now, so enjoy.

* * *

Penelo arrived at the palace in the bright and early hours of the morning; _very_ brightand _very_ early - she hadn't slept well last night, partly because of Vaan's absence and also due to her brain refusing to shut down. So she'd spent half the designated 'sleeping time' (a.k.a. night) formulating plans and scams that'd get her by the guards following Larsa everywhere like a rash.

Step one of the 'get Larsa to smuggle us out of Arcadia' plan was fairly easy: all she had to do was find out as much of his schedule as she could - knowing when The Emperor was likely to be out for a stroll or in a meeting or penned up in one of those studies would help her get close to him, as would picking up on what 'jobs' got the servants near these places. She was after all, a nameless drifter that everyone just _assumed _to be working here, which gave her a certain power of anonymity.

But upon her _seemingly_ inconspicuous entrance through the kitchen door, just as the sun was beginning to grace the horizon, Penelo was immediately caught out by no other than the perpetually aggravated Marcus Stumps, who seemed rather overjoyed that the new girl was so eager to work.

"Good t'see ya in on time," he growled in an almost friendly sort of way, while Penelo tried not to choke on the thought of **this** being 'on time', although looking around there didn't seem to be that many people about – just a few kids lighting the stoves and the odd man or woman bustling aimlessly through the day's materials.

"Well," she shrugged as if she'd planned it all along, "I guess I just really …wanted …to …_work?_" every word seemed to sound more foreign than the last considering Penelo's situation, as she realized how used she'd gotten to 'work' being all pirating and pillages - which _incidentally_ rarely started before three in the afternoon.

Marcus chuckled at Penelo and beckoned her towards a counter by snapping his fingers like she was some obediently trained dog, which she definitely _wasn't_…but after losing a stare-out and being amiably threatened for not obeying orders, she was forced to fulfill the beck and call of her new 'master.'

Upon her reluctant approach to the counter Penelo saw that Marcus was just beginning to pluck a bird for the breakfast arrangements, he instructively slid the thing to her along the surface and unhooked another from a rail above him, where they were hanging from pegs by their bound feet.

"Pull against tha direction of the feathers an don' be afraid ta really yank it." He announced and began ripping handfuls of feathers off the new victim, and as she wasn't _exactly_ a pacifist Penelo quickly followed suit, despite having a sneezing fit when the down got up her nose and made Marcus laugh again – he actually seemed to be much nicer when the kitchens were empty.

Neither spoke much, except for Marcus occasionally giving her some small tip or instruction about the task at hand - not that it was very hard - so they simply carried on in a comfortable silence as the flow of people began to fill the surrounding area.

In what seemed like no time there was a young girl breaking eggs into a bowl on Penelo's left, and another slicing bacon on Marcus's right, and he occasionally spat an order or reprimand when they slipped up.

"Oi! There's shell in it," he told the girl across from Penelo - who, while keeping her nose out of the dispute had moved on by this time to carving one bird (Marcus had merely given her a knife and said to do exactly as he did) while starting to pluck another in the spare _seconds_ her commanding officer took to abuse those around them, "it'll be yer fuckin brains in tha bowl if y'not careful." He said while roughly clipping the ear of the trainee, inadvertently knocking Penelo in the process.

"Ah, sorry chik," he muttered as he went back to his work, while Penelo began to worry exactly what she'd got herself into by turning up so early (he'd actually apologized to her) – Marcus's good books definitely appeared to be among the list, whether that was good or bad in itself she couldn't tell.

Somewhere between carving up a second bird and taking precise instructions on how to butterfly a fillet of the creature (and _somehow _managing to get both done albeit in a slightly haphazard way – earning herself a few 'encouraging' threats from him for her errors,) Penelo realized that the kitchens were _heaving _with people. It was just lucky for her that everyone appeared to give 'Stumpy' an arms length at all times, so they hadn't been disturbed yet…although their peaceful arrangement was soon to be disrupted by a certain 'visually impeded' individual.

"So! He's got himself anuther _prodigy_!" A jarring accent Penelo was sure she recognized snorted over her shoulder, but she kept her concentration on the knife-edge and only cutting the things she was _supposed_ to with it; following Marcus's instructions to each exact detail. The last thing she wanted was to lose was the benevolence and protection of probably the most terrifying man in the Emperor's service, as it didn't take long before Penelo realized that _everyone _(bar one) was afraid of Marcus.

"Don't cut too deep or it'll fall apart on the griddle," he dictated and she immediately corrected herself; ashamedly desperate not to screw up… then while wondering what would become of this meal-in-the-making Penelo suddenly remembered: _'The Emperor! Larsa_!' She'd completely forgotten about him.

The man at her back leaned in closer and spread his revolting breath all along the back of Penelo's neck while she worked, making her shudder and tighten her grip around the handle of the knife - it was before noon and she _already _wanted to kill people.

"Ah, its that lil' snake-killer," the man with the bandana, _still _wearing the bandana, muttered lewdly as Penelo held her breath.

"You takin this one undar yur wing then too, eh Stumpy?" he added just as Penelo finished up the second bird, which Marcus snatched away and replaced with an Arcadian melon, along with a cleaver not dissimilar to the one she got the better of that viper with yesterday.

"Segment it an' pick out any pips. An' always use a different knife in fruit ta meat." he instructed before turning away and giving the man with the bandana a rough, backwards shove into the greater mass of people.

"Jes knock it off," he snarled in a low tone, "Girl arrived afore any of you sad fucks got y'asses outta bed, so I gaev her sum'work ta do. Now yu betta make up fer y'lost time and **get back ta fckin work!**" The man with the bandana turned a bright red as Marcus knocked him aside and went back to Penelo's countertop, bandana-man slinking off muttering curses until 'Stumpy's' mood lightened up, if such a thing could occur.

"What was that about?" asked Penelo innocently, trying to master the art of cutting the somewhat formidable fruit she'd been given without it rolling away and/or getting drenched in the sticky juice it tended to _bleed_.

"Ah nutin." Marcus replied shortly, stirring seasoning into the eggs the girl formerly on Penelo's left had scrambled. Siding with her better judgment she left the issue as was - Marcus didn't look like he'd appreciate pestering right now.

Instead she concentrated on removing the ridiculous amount of seeds embedded in the fleshy fruit, once she'd managed to hack it apart that was, which was a feat in itself – did the' higher-ups' (she was already beginning to coin phrases from here) _really _need the pips picked out of their fruit for them? Surely Larsa would…

"Dammit! _Larsa_!" she spat to herself in annoyance: how could she forget about him _twice?_ She didn't actually work here, so _why_ was she letting herself get so distracted?

"Eh?" Marcus coughed as he palmed the mixing bowl onto another chef and took up some other task, as to be honest Penelo has lost count of how many things he was doing at once – hopefully he wouldn't expect that of her eventually…dammit she **didn't work here!**

"Oh, nuthi…I mean nothing," she stuttered, and luckily Marcus seemed to accept it or not care - either would do for her.

"To th'hobs." He boldly stated all of a sudden, before taking off across the kitchen like a man on fire. Penelo assumed she was supposed to follow and gave a hasty chase, arriving at the monstrous, twelve-ring stoves just as Marcus shoved another chef away to open up a spot and take over whatever the woman had been cooking at the time. He then did the same for Penelo, and she thus found herself with the handle of a pan spitting oil as if it were possessed by the devil itself; not to mention the smell of fried food making her hungry and within seconds Marcus bellowing that she was doing it all wrong.

It was at this point that Penelo knew she ought make her excuses and try to pass herself off as a waiter for the 'morning meal' (breakfast was an understatement) in hopes of serving Larsa at the table. But try as she might she couldn't run off while Marcus was telling her to turn the _heat down, flip, add oil, drain oil, give him the pan, take this, use that, chuck the other on it_…so on and so forth. Nor could Penelo abandon her post while being told that she'd got it all wrong, because there was just part of her subconscious that hated to leave things not done properly - she basically loved being _right_ (Vaan was often the victim of this trait.)

But time's wicked way soon stole the hours off the morning. The beginning stages of Penelo's Larsa-Master-plan - namely gathering information - appeared to drag out far longer than she'd estimated due to 'unseen complications', otherwise known as 'breakfast' and 'burnt bacon'.

However, breakfast had naturally ran into Brunch, which was pursued by a tide of late, but usually complicated and obsessively particular demands for sustenance from 'the slobs of the nobility', who had half the staff (her and Marcus included) rushed off their feet as a result. Then after _that_ panic died down there were silly things like morning tea and high tea and calami-tea and something the Lords, called 'elevensies' – an entirely pointless and wasteful concept as far as _Penelo_ could see. But as it was, before she knew it she found herself calmly spooning the filling into a quiche for early lunch while chatting to a young boy making the crusts next to her.

"I don't normally do things like this, y'see," she explained to the doe-eyed lad as she shoveled away at the mixture. Marcus had sped off to run stock of the cold rooms in preparation for dinner, trusting her to keep busy in his absence like a good cook's apprentice.

"I'm s'pposed to be in the northern reaches of Rozzaria, a place called Amber Cove if I remember correctly… me and my partner were gonna" it suddenly occurred to Penelo that bragging her future plans and past discrepancies wasn't the best of ideas in a heavily populated kitchen.

"I mean we were going to _work_ for him." She hesitantly corrected herself with a mental slap, "yeah… got a place working in the kitchens…the Palace here is nice and all, but… I like the Rozzarian countryside. It's so pretty. Although that aside, I _actually_ hail from Dalmasca, though I haven't been back there in a year or two because we've been traveling a lot…but yunno, enough of me, where'd you come from? Are you a Local boy?" Turning to the side Penelo realized the person she was now talking to wasn't actually the same one she'd started with.

"Wait…you're not you are you?" She demanded poignantly and the new accomplice shook his head, hoping that it was the right thing to do – as anyone Stumpy took on was definitely not to be crossed, and Penelo had definitely been earmarked as his new right-hand-man (or woman: whatever really.)

'_Dammit Pen,' _she told herself, _'stop talking so much, aren't you supposed to be unhappy? And whatever happened to the Larsa plan?'_

"Goddam Larsa…" She muttered again, but was careful this time not to be overheard, "I need to find him…hey, you got the time, kid?" she had to admit one of the best things about not being a child anymore (she _was _twenty-five) was being able to call all teenagers 'kid.'

"Uh, I think it's about thirteen thirty," he answered meekly and Penelo did a double take on him, gawping like stuck onion head.

"Seriously?! Damn I need to get going…" she grumbled while handing the quiche over to the nearest, free-handed assistant and went dashing off to find the head waiter – a woman she believed to be named Sylvie (Marcus had filled her in on the main characters of the kitchen a while back.)

"Hey," Penelo chirped upon making the woman's trademark frizzy hair out near the doors, regaling at the miracle of 'employment' (be it false) in perking up her mood and whole _personality_ no end. Just being busy just seemed to put Vaan right out of her head…although he'd come back with a vengeance and she'd have to start pretending to slice onions in case anyone saw her eyes watering.

"Any orders for the Emperor?" she inquired, and the middle-aged woman narrowed her eyes at the younger recruit and glanced down at an open schedule in her hand.

"What'sit to ya?" she cawed distrustfully, but Penelo but on her best face of deception and grinned.

"I'm new here, I was in the wrong place this'mornin so they just sent me over to start for the lunchtime rush," she announced and as an afterthought she added, "oh…and sorry I'm late." Sylvie stared at the 'new girl' then down at the register.

"Rosetta Powell?" she inquired, having (while thinking herself quite the mastermind) 'mistaken' the surname just to check the girl's authenticity. But Penelo was already one step ahead of the game: reading documents upside down and in the arms of another persons was _child's _play to her – and also the first rule of identity theft through checkpoints.

It was in fact this woman's downfall that she used the first name of a new girl who'd failed to turn up that day, as it made it _all_ the easier for her imposter.

"No, you must have it down wrong," she replied brightly, "I'm Rosi Gonzalez, right?" even before checking the line the woman knew Penelo _was_ right, and begrudgingly checked her off with an absence warning.

"Nice ta see y'finally made it then," the wiry woman spat, "an wots all this bout his'ighness? He's nat seein anee'one" Penelo sighed under her breath and wondered if Larsa was _always _going to be this much trouble to get in contact with.

"I've word from the other staff that he's watin for an order," she remarked as if she couldn't care less, then studying the line of plates and trays on the outgoing counter spotted a serving that was from the _first _breakfast – what in gods was it still doing there?

Sylvie followed the girl's confused gaze and coolly named it as "Emperor's breakfast. Cold." then went along the row of meals reciting a list of things prepared for Larsa (just in case) and left to fester when 'The Lord' himself didn't send for them.

Penelo couldn't help thinking what an untimely waste of food it was, especially when she knew how hungry people went in Old Arcades…although, by the looks of it the Emperor was sharing their burden, "Wait, hasn't La-His Highness eaten all day?" she suddenly asked with what might've been concern in her tone, but the woman merely shrugged.

"Not as far as I know." Outraged, Penelo snatched up the nearest and freshest serving to hand (a plate of that damn annoying melon) and stormed out of the kitchens with it in hand – the boy needed to eat didn't he? It was also as good an excuse as any to get to her 'target'.

"Heh," Sylvie cackled and poked a vague acquaintance with her glass elbow, "new ones jus gone up Emperor's room without orders." The companion proceeded to burst into fits of mirthful snorts.

"Tell mi wen she's back," they begged of Sylvie, "I want ta'see the tears. Shi lookes lik a weeper."

As mornings went for Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, he was _not _having a good one. The young Emperor would've sworn on his entire family's graves (and if he so desired he could've, the catacombs were always open) that there was a live _creature_ inside his skull, currently attempting to claw its way out and continue its reign of torture.

While weighing up the values of throwing himself out a window over remaining in bed, and by default in _pain,_ there came a sudden knock at his door; which felt like three well-aimed rifle shots to the head in the Emperor's current 'state'.

The curious thing was thatnNo one, and that was _no one_, tried to enter the Emperor's chambers unless he'd made a personal appearance outside of them at some point during the day - for _this_ very reason - but as far as he could remember (which was often a variable) Larsa had done no such thing.

"La…Your…uh…hello?" A woman's voice penetrated the door and angered the master of torture in Larsa's skull, although he still had the lucidity to wonder _who _in Arcadia says 'hello' after knocking on someone's closed bedroom door, let alone that of an Emperor.

He _could've_ ordered the foolish servant away, but that would require speaking and Larsa was almost one hundred percent sure that the beast of burden would not appreciate such an endeavor. So he remained silent and the door opened after a while, and then what sounded like a young woman strolled casually into his room, as if it were an everyday occurrence or she was merely visiting a museum: _'here we have the Emperor of Arcadia, notice how he is in extreme pain and looks distinctly wan_. _Please do not try to feed the exhibits, as they are known to bite when angered.'_

From what he could judge by his oversensitive but simultaneously agonizing hearing, Larsa guessed that this woman had brought food, as he heard her setting a plate of some sort down on a table…but of all the things he needed at that moment in time, nourishment was not high on the list.

"Seems the staff down there don't think you need to eat, _Larsa_," Penelo announced poignantly, staring into the back of Larsa's head (she only hoped) as he lay face down in a ridiculously big bed, hoping that just using his name and her voice would jog his memory.

Larsa groaned resentfully and managed to murmur, "Go away." Before burying his face in a pillow once again. Penelo had to admit she was half-expecting something like this - he not only appeared to be a heartless snob but also a lazy bum too.

"That's not a very nice way to greet me, _is it __**Larsa**_" she taunted in a lowered voice still; feeling rather proud of herself for managing to get herself all this way _without_ help from anyone, least of all Vaan - who ever said she was useless without him? (it was herself as a matter of fact, but that was not the point.)

One of the most amusing things Penelo found about the Emperor, was that without his guards, fancy outfits or heavily groomed exterior, Larsa was just _Larsa_: the snot-nosed kid she knew when he still thought lime-green was an _awesome_ colour for your shoes.

"Just…go away…I'm not entertaining… at the moment…" said boy groaned while wheels in his fractured mind span uselessly, whirling and twirling frantically about _something_, but whatit was he couldn't fathom, nor did he care about.

"I'm just bringing you some break…well, more of a lunch really," Penelo replied while pacing around the room thoughtfully, although she kept clear of the door in case the guards heard her talking to 'Their Lord' like this.

Although they'd been pretty easy to get by once she'd turned up with food and insistences of the Emperor's 'total famishment', but if they smelled a rat she'd be upside down in shackles before she could say 'Solidor'.

"I can't." Was all Larsa had to say as he rolled over and for the first time Penelo thought he might be _more _than lazy, seeing as his face was all contorted and he was literally as white as a sheet.

"Oh… Larsa? Are you okay?" she gushed, he did _not _look good –maybe he got sick somehow: there was always Sochen fever…or the Arcades flu, or that Seeqpox that was going around…

But as was his usual way when questioned on that matter, Larsa scowled and managed to groan, "Yes, I'm **fine!**" Without realizing that it wasn't just anybody questioning him this time.

"You don't look fine," she retorted sharply, "do you have a fever? Look I'll go get some hel…"

"I am fine, just **go away!!**" Larsa Solidor cried in frustration, eyes stuck closed and deafened by the sound of his own voice, "please, Pen…" he added in a broken whisper, hardly aware of the shortened name his subconscious pulled out of the dark abyss commonly known as his memory.

Penelo however, broke out in an ear-to-ear grin and dashed up to the bedside in excitement.

"What did you say?" she demanded eagerly, hoping that she hadn't misheard him and Larsa had actually _remembered_…as it was about time too.

"I said leavemealone!"he chocked while curling up like a baby and burying his face in his hands, "…_please_." He begged once more, and Penelo suddenly realized she was probably doing more harm than good to Larsa at the moment, so unless she wanted to give him a stroke ought obey his wishes…getting him some help in the meanwhile.

She was also momentarily stunned by the utterance of a pleasantry from the noble's lips, he'd actually said 'please' to her (twice), which was a start if anything.

So upon realizing that for Larsa hate her the least, she should really be on her merry way. Penelo strolled out the door and consulted one of the guards about the Emperor's condition, who assured her that everyone _was_ aware of his current aliment- 'he'd picked up a Rozzarian flu while in the country on business' - and that was all the attendant would say on the subject, much to her annoyance.

But satisfied that Larsa wasn't likely to die while she was away, Penelo skipped happily back to her work with a smile like sunshine: _he'd__remembered her!_

This rather disappointed Sylvie and her porcine friend, who'd been hoping for the crushed victim of their Emperor's _infamous_ morning moods and received naught but cheer.

And even Marcus managed to forgive the new girl for bunking so suddenly, as she returned with such a good disposition that whatever it was, it was _worth_ it.

* * *

I swear I will not abandon this, it just might take a while, kk?

(I love this story too much to abandon it)


End file.
